Chapter 18
CARSON
I used to play with a guy who got divorced.
Then he and his ex-wife started hooking up.
He said things worked better for them as fuck buddies than as husband and wife.
He said they’d talked about it and it was mutual.
They figured out a whole new relationship that worked for both of them and they were happier that way.
I accepted what he said. If it worked for both of them, great.
But would I want that for myself?
After I got a warm washcloth from the bathroom and cleaned up Ayla and myself, I slid back into the bed and pulled her into my arms. She fits perfectly. It’s like we’ve never been apart.
Ayla and I just had spectacular, brain-bending sex. It was always good between us and I’ve missed sex, but since we split up, I never had any desire to sleep with anyone else. What does that mean?
I don’t know. My poor brain is confused.
Would I want an exes-with-benefits relationship with Ayla?
I don’t know.
Right now, it’s hard to image that I would turn down such an arrangement. Jesus, I’m cooked. Spent. Done like a dog’s dinner. I’d go for another round of that any day, all day.
But there’s a niggle in the recesses of my broken brain that still has common sense. That there could be problems with that. And not just for me. What about Ayla?
She makes a soft noise and burrows her face into the pillow, pushing her cute ass back into my groin.
She was definitely a willing participant. But… what does that mean?
I fall asleep with questions circling in my head and no answers.
* * *
When the alarm on Ayla’s phone goes off, we’re both startled awake. It’s still dark and we’re still twisted together in the bed, one of my hands on her boob. Nice. I give it a gentle squeeze.
She makes a soft sound of enjoyment.
I brush my nose against her hair, pull it back off her face, and kiss her ear. “Hey.”
“Mmm.”
Is this awkward? Or completely normal? I’m so fucked up, I don’t even know.
My dick doesn’t know either but does know that he wants more by prodding at Ayla’s backside. When she parts her thighs so my cock slips between them, a groan rises in my chest. “Jesus.”
I push slowly. My shaft gets all wet and slick from her pussy, sliding back and forth against it, making the sensation slippery and smooth.
I’m jerking myself between her thighs, and she lets out a long, shaky whimper.
We rock our hips against each other and she reaches behind her to grab my hip to give us both leverage.
I mold the soft flesh of her tit and pinch and tug at the nipple.
“What time is it?” she mumbles.
“No idea.” I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m happily rubbing myself between her thighs and along her wet slit.
She lifts her head to peer at the clock on the bedside table. “Oh shit!”
That doesn’t sound good.
She scrambles away from me and out of bed. “We have to get up! I have to go to Heppawa to get the balloons filled!”
“Fuck.” I fall flat on my back, arms at my sides, my rigid cock pointing hopefully at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry.”
I slide a glance at Ayla to see her staring at my dick. Hungrily. Christ.
“It’s okay.” I smirk at her. “I’ll deal with it.” I wrap my hand around it and tug it a couple of times.
“Oh God.” She’s still staring, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Then she shakes her head and lifts her hands. “No. I have to get dressed.”
“I’ll drive you to Heppawa.”
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.
“Thank you.” She disappears into the bathroom and I hear her brushing her teeth and whatever as I continue to jerk myself.
I picture her naked in front of the mirror, her tits all round and tipped with pale nipples.
My hand moves faster. Heat and pressure spiral inside me.
I grit my teeth as my balls squeeze, my cock surges, and I grab tissues from the box beside the bed just in time.
I’m slack and gulping for air when Ayla returns. Still naked. Still beautiful, her hair brushed and a slick of gloss on her mouth. She gives me a long, heated look then digs through her suitcase for clothes.
“I wish we could stay here all day,” I mumble.
She glances over her shoulder. “Dream on.”
“I know.” I sigh and roll out of bed. “Give me two minutes.”
I use the bathroom, too, then walk out still naked.
I see Ayla’s eyes drop to my now soft dick. She does a slow blink, sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, then turns away. I smile and get dressed in a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt.
“We need food,” I say as we’re ready to leave.
“Um. I guess.” She seems a little distracted. “We can grab breakfast to go from the buffet.”
“And coffee.”
“Definitely coffee.”
It’s about a half-hour drive from the resort to the town along a winding, two-lane highway, through snow-filled woods and sun-gilded mountains.
This would be a great time to talk about what just happened, but neither of us bring it up.
Both of us cowards, apparently. We keep things light and casual and admire the scenery.
Ayla is following our trip on her phone and directs me to the shop where we’ll get the balloons filled with helium. I follow her inside to help so I can help carry out the massive balloon chains, all in shades of purple and white and silver.
Back at the lodge, we spend the morning decorating and arranging flowers for the evening birthday celebration. Rachel, Elisa, and Bria join us, which gains my approval, even though Elisa and Bria still clearly hate my guts. How can I blame them? I let their sister down in the worst way.
Ayla takes charge and gives us all direction and soon the pavilion is decked out with purple and silver and white balloons, flowers, candles, and—totally blowing my mind—LED lights in the corners that will shine up on the walls and ceiling with purple light.
In the afternoon, I take over the family Olympics, coordinating the skating competitions and the snowshoeing races for kids and adults, while Ayla handles afternoon tea with Nonna and more indoor activities for the kids.
Back at the cottage, we get ready for the evening.
It feels so familiar: Ayla doing her hair and make-up, sipping wine, while I complete my preparation by showering and combing my hair.
Familiar and intimate, and I get an ache behind my sternum that feels almost like…
homesickness. Like I’ve missed this. Like I’ve missed her.
I decided to break out the tux for dinner tonight and it’s worth it when Ayla regards me with warm, admiring eyes.
“You look great,” she says, her voice husky.
“Thanks.”
And when she’s finished getting ready, I’m the same. Okay, I’m stunned into speechless, drooling silence. The long satin dress in pastel pink skims over her curves, with one shoulder completely bare and a strap on the other shoulder. The pink looks amazing with her pale-blonde hair.
“Wow.”
She smiles, her lips rosy and shiny. “Is that good?”
“Fuck yeah. Better than good. Holy shit, Ayla.”
Her cheeks pinken up brighter than her dress.
I always knew I was so fucking lucky that she agreed to marry me. I always wondered how I deserved her. And not just because of her looks, but because of her huge, soft heart. And man, did I fuck up massively to end up losing her. Something pulls tight in my chest, squeezing my windpipe.
I move closer to her and kiss her forehead. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She puts on a pair of spike-heeled sandals that are not appropriate for winter, but the sidewalk to the pavilion is clear.
We arrive early and Norm is there.
I scowl at him. His smirk for Ayla fades.
“Everything looks beautiful,” Ayla says to him. The tables are all set with silver and glass, the candles glow, and soft music plays through a sound system.
“I had a couple of questions about serving the birthday cake,” Norm says to her, and they move away from me.
It does look really nice in here. Ayla put in a lot of work for her family. I hope they appreciate it. I hope they appreciate her.
Elisa and Bria walk in, shedding their jackets to hang them on the coat rack near the door. They spot me and walk toward me. They kind of scare me.
“Hello, ladies.”
“Carter,” Bria says. “Nice tux.”
I smooth a lapel. “Thanks. How are you both?”
“Why do you want to know?” Elisa eyes me narrowly.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I didn’t realize we were auditioning for Mean Girls tonight.”
Both sets of blue eyes widen. I think Elisa’s lips twitch. “Nice,” she says.
“I’d give you a nasty look,” says Bria. “But you already have one.”
“Proving my point,” I murmur.
Ayla joins us, smiling at her sisters. “What point?”
“His head,” Elisa says.
Ayla’s mouth drops open. “Excuse me, what?” She looks between them and me. “That’s my husband you’re speaking to.”
Elisa drops her chin. “Husband?”
“For this weekend, yes.” Ayla leans closer to her sisters, hissing out the words. “Be nice to him or people will wonder what’s going on.”
Her sisters wear identical expressions of disgruntlement. “Fine.”
I smile at them.
Other family members are arriving, including Nonna with her walker, accompanied by Vince and Melissa. We all move toward them to greet them.
“Happy Birthday, Nonna!” Ayla gives her great-grandma a hug.
“Thank you, dolcezza. I have hardly seen you this weekend. You’ve been so busy.”
“I know. We’ll talk tonight.”
“Don’t leave it too late; I go to bed early these days.”
Ayla grins. “Okay.”
Nonna looks at me. “Now there’s a man who looks good in a tuxedo. Hello, Carson.”
I lean down to kiss her cheek. Way down. She’s tinier than she used to be. “Thank you. And you look lovely tonight, Gia. Did Ayla plan your outfit to match the décor?”
Gia laughs. “She knows my favorite color.” Her dress is a flattering shade of purple, with a small corsage of purple flowers pinned above her heart. “It looks beautiful in here, Ayla. I love it.”
“Good.” Ayla beams. “This is for you.”
“You’re such a sweetheart.”
“Let’s go find your table.” Ayla leads Gia to the front of the big room.
The place is filling up now, chattering voices and laughter floating around the music.
The kids are all dressed in fancy dresses and tiny dress pants and shirts and ties, and wow, are they wound up.
You’d think all that outdoor air would’ve tired them out today.
Tripp and Knox are chasing little Madison through the tables, all of them shrieking. Their parents are lined up at the bar.
Which seems like an excellent idea. I head that way, too.
I chat with cousins and uncles and aunts while I wait in line for a beer.
I was going to get Ayla a glass of wine, but there’s a signature cocktail on offer: a Purple Rain.
What else. I don’t know what’s in it, but I take one for her, then search the room for her.
She’s still with Nonna and now Ernie and Angela, and…
crap, I’m not sure who the other couple is.
I join them and hand Ayla her drink.
“Oh, thank you! I can’t wait to try this!”
“Such a thoughtful young man,” Gia says. “Come here, Carson, sit down and talk hockey to me.”
I grin. “Sure.”
“What happened to Lawson?” she asks. “How long will he be out?”
“Lower body injury,” I say.
“Phhht. Come on.”
I grin. “High ankle sprain.”
“Ah.”
“He’s probably out six weeks.” I make a face.
“He’s a good D-man.”
“Yeah. But we have other guys who can fill in.”
“Maybe they’ll call up one of those young guys from Binghamton.”
I nod. “Yeah, could be.”
We discuss options.
“And what about you? How many goals have you got this season?”
“Sixteen.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“It’s okay.”
“Assists?”
“Thirty.”
She pats my arm. “That’s my boy.”
I glance up to see Ayla watching us with such a tender expression on her face, my heart gives a jolt. Her mouth curves and I see the gratitude. And I’m glad I came.
Gia continues to quiz me on team stats and how we’re playing until it’s time for dinner to be served and everyone starts taking their seats. Ayla and I are at a nearby table with her family again.
I’m distracted by her beauty in the pink dress, her bare arms and shoulder, the slit in the dress that shows off her legs.
I keep looking at her. I keep touching her.
And I catch the looks between her sisters.
I enjoy their confusion. I also enjoy feeling Ayla’s soft skin and inhaling her scent when I lean in close to whisper, “You look so fucking hot.”
She slants me a glance, cheeks pink, a little smile playing on her mouth. “So do you, Mr. Big.”
Damn. That name. I haven’t heard it in so long and it induces a weird twisting feeling in my gut.